Barbara wheeled into the Belfry's central hub, the soft hum of machines greeting her like an old friend. The place was dimly lit, quiet-just the way she needed it. It had been nearly a week since Dick left for Eastern Europe. A week without his voice. A week of pretending everything was normal.
She'd left his apartment reluctantly. But with Jason and Tim rotating in and out to watch over Blüdhaven, it had become too risky. No one in the Bat-Family knew she and Dick were together-not really. And she couldn't afford the questions. Not now.
Instead, she came home.
The Belfry had always been her space, a fortress of code and logic and control. Here, she could breathe. Here, she could still help, even when she couldn't be in the field.
The main screen flared to life as she activated her Oracle protocols, the green glyphs spinning into place like clockwork. Communications, surveillance, and crime database-online. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, launching subroutines and tapping into satellite networks.
"Oracle online," she whispered to herself, headset slipping over her ears.
The comms buzzed to life with a soft chime.
"Oracle, this is Spoiler. I've got eyes on the Penguin's shipment coming into the Lower Narrows."
"Copy that," Barbara said, voice steady. "Red Robin is five blocks from your location. He'll intercept the north alley. You flank the south, but keep your distance. There's a meta-enhanced on the security team."
"Got it. I missed your voice, O."
Barbara smiled faintly, even though her chest ached.
"I'm not going anywhere."
She guided Spoiler, Red Robin, and Batwoman through two separate missions over the next few hours, eyes flicking across half a dozen feeds. Oracle was back. She was sharp, precise. Indispensable.
But beneath it all, she kept glancing at a small, dark phone resting on the corner of the console. A burner. Only one number saved. Only one person meant to call.
It hadn't lit up since he left.
Her heart clenched.
But she would wait. Just like she always did.
Because if there was one thing Barbara Gordon knew how to do-it was endure the silence until the truth broke through.
The clock ticked past midnight, but Barbara hadn't noticed. Her eyes were locked on the monitor wall, each screen filled with movement, coordinates, and coded status reports. The hum of the Belfry's systems had become part of her heartbeat.
"Red Hood, shooter on the second balcony," she said into the comms. "Sniper rifle-M99. Adjust your approach."
"Got it, Oracle," Jason grunted. "Would've been nice to know before I kicked in the front door."
"Maybe next time don't make a dramatic entrance," she teased, watching his biometric readings spike and stabilize. "Shooter's down. Nice work."
She didn't even pause before switching feeds.
"Spoiler, Red Robin, Batwoman-shipment just docked at Pier 9. Penguin's goons are guarding the north end, but I've hacked their comms. Moving in now will give you a 40-second blind spot."
"On your mark, Oracle," Batwoman replied.
"Now."
Barbara's fingers flew over the keys, disabling security cams, splicing through encrypted signals. Her chair creaked as she shifted weight, the motion smooth and practised.
Next feed.
"Ruby, you're flanked left. Yang, two Grimm moving in from behind the warehouse. I'm marking targets now."
Team RWBY's window was smaller-just audio tonight-but Barbara heard the echo of battle and urgency in their voices. She guided them like always, her tone calm and surgical.
By 2 a.m., she was down to one final request.
"Commissioner," she said over the secure line. "You were right-the blood splatter patterns didn't match. I cross-referenced with the GCPD's internal reports. The killer was a former CSI tech. Check the East End, storage locker 109."
"Already on our way," Montoya answered, impressed. "You're scary-good, Oracle."
Barbara smiled faintly but didn't reply. Compliments didn't fill the space where he was missing.
---
She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temple. The screens dimmed slightly, entering standby. For a moment, it was just her and the silence.
Then, the door to the Belfry slid open.
She turned.
"Bruce."
Batman stepped out of the shadows like always-silent, unreadable, and wearing the weight of Gotham like a second cape.
"You've been busy," he said, glancing at the monitors.
"So have you." She studied him. "Have you heard from him?"
Bruce's mask didn't flicker.
"I've been... preoccupied," he replied. "Investor meetings. Trying to secure more funds for the foundation. Eastern Europe is complicated."
Barbara's eyes narrowed just a little, but she didn't press-yet.
"Right," she said, voice cool. "No word at all?"
Bruce hesitated for a fraction of a second.
"No. Not yet."
She looked away, biting back the ache in her chest. She knew Bruce. She knew his tells. He was lying. But he thought it was for her protection.
Still, it didn't make the silence any easier.
"Alright," she said softly. "Thanks for stopping by."
Bruce nodded once, lingering for a moment longer as if he wanted to say more.
But he didn't.
He turned and disappeared back into the darkness.
Barbara waited until the door hissed shut before turning her gaze to the burner phone.
Still nothing.
She reached for it anyway.
And kept waiting.
*Barbara's apartment*
The lights in Barbara's apartment were low-soft golden hues casting shadows across the walls as she wheeled herself into the bedroom, tugging her long red hair into a loose braid. Gotham's night breeze murmured against the glass window, a lullaby in a city that never truly slept.
She checked her phone one last time out of habit.
No messages.
With a quiet sigh, she reached over to switch off the lamp-
Buzz.
Her hand froze.
The screen lit up.
Dick Grayson.
Her heart jumped.
She fumbled slightly before answering, breath catching.
"Dick?" she whispered, voice already blooming with joy.
"Hey," came his voice, soft and tired-but his. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't," she said, a smile forming. "God, I've been waiting to hear your voice."
He chuckled, and for a moment, all the tension of the last week melted away.
"I'm sorry I didn't call sooner," he said. "Things got... complicated out here."
"Eastern Europe'll do that," she replied playfully. "How bad is it?"
There was a pause.
Then: "It's manageable. A lot of shadows, a lot of locked doors. But I'm holding up."
Barbara could hear the lie. Not because of what he said-but because of what he didn't. His voice was even, too rehearsed. And Dick Grayson didn't rehearse with her.
Still, she let it go.
For now.
"I'm just glad you're okay," she said gently. "I've been helping everyone back here. Jason, Tim, Kate... RWBY, too. But nothing feels right without you."
There was a smile in his silence.
"I miss you," he said.
"I miss you more."
A creak sounded in the background of Dick's end-barely audible, but enough to put him back on alert.
He turned slightly, eyes narrowing toward the wall outside his room.
Footsteps.
Someone was patrolling the hall.
His voice dropped. "I have to go."
Barbara nodded, suddenly serious. "Be careful. Please."
"I will."
A beat.
"I love you."
Barbara's voice was just a breath. "I love you too."
The call ended.
And in two places-two sides of the same war-they each sat in the dark, hearts beating just a little louder, holding onto that moment.
Until the morning came.